


(thanks for showing me) how loss feels

by potterheading



Series: leave a message universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Overdosing, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sad Draco Malfoy, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterheading/pseuds/potterheading
Summary: but harry was gone, and draco had been transformed into nothing but an unfinished sentence, in one fell swoop.dracoand -dracoand…dracoand.and, and, and…when the darkness swallows him, the feeling that washes over him is something akin to relief.-in which harry leaves, and draco mourns.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: leave a message universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128224
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	(thanks for showing me) how loss feels

**Author's Note:**

> hello!
> 
> thanks for clicking! 
> 
> this work is a continuation/closer look of a previous work of mine, titled "leave a message". this fic might make sense on its own, but is better understood when read in conjunction with my other story. 
> 
> tw for depression, suicide, and general sadness
> 
> btw: conversations in italics are between draco and healers/his therapist  
> enjoy!

draco sighed contentedly as a breeze passed, carrying the sweet scent of the flowers. he flexed his fingers and toes, smiling as the soft grass scratched at his skin. the moment felt perfect - and reminded him much of his childhood. he had spent many days in the gardens of the manor with his mother - rolling in the grass and helping her tend to the garden as much as his small, clumsy fingers could handle. 

he couldn’t help but imagine doing the same with his own children one day. nowadays, harry was much more of the garden work-type - but draco wouldn’t mind sitting in the shade and sipping on a glass of lemonade as a toddler with harry’s eyes and the malfoy blonde hair ran about, giggling and playing in the grass. 

draco stared up at the slowly changing sky - his mind bouncing sporadically from topic to topic. he pictures himself and harry, standing before their friends and family, their hands intertwined. he knew that harry would prefer a smaller wedding - one with only their closest loved ones. however, draco relished the idea of flaunting their domestic bliss before the entire wizarding world. another image materialized - of them visiting the french cottage, this time with a small bundle tucked in harry’s arms. more scenes flashed by rapidly - birthday parties, lie-in’s, sending off and receiving the hogwarts express - a happy, peaceful life. 

when draco returned from his reverie, the sky had grown almost completely dark. 

“bugger,” he murmured to himself, standing and wiping his hands on his trousers. his stomach grumbled loudly, and draco remembered that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. as he made his way into the kitchen, he began to muse over what to prepare. perhaps a steak and kidney pie - one of harry’s favorites. 

draco quickly busied himself with preparing dinner - humming happily to himself all the while.

\- 

hermione smiled as ron pulled another face, resulting in another round of raucous laughter from rosie. the sound of her daughters laugh calmed her immensely - she had been under the weather for the last few days and spent most of the time crying or sleeping as she fought off a fever. in her pocket, hermione’s mobile rang loudly, startling the infant on the examination bed. she looked over at hermione for a moment, her eyes wide and already welling with tears. 

“mind if i take this?” hermione asked, already pulling the mobile from her pocket. 

ron nodded her away, rubbing a hand across rosie’s back in an attempt to soothe her before the inevitable outburst. hermione stepped outside the room and put the phone to her ear, but was greeted with only the sound of static. 

“ron, there’s no service on this floor, i’m gonna go down for a bit. i’ll be right back,” she pokes her head back into the doorway, but ron doesn’t even glance up at her. he’s always been this way - supportive of her ambition and in awe of her drive. ron had always been more family-minded, but it was a dynamic that worked. ron, with his job at the joke shop, was able to take as many days off as he wanted to spend time with rosie, while hermione was required to report to the ministry nearly every day. 

down on the first floor, hermione found an empty corner to take her call. as the minister’s assistant relayed the most important notes from the meeting she had missed, hermione half-listened. outside of the relative calm of her corner, the hospital was hustling and bustling like usual. a team of harried looking medi-wizards rushed past her, shouting to each other. 

one phrase stuck out to her most: “ _harry potter_ ”

“wait, adam, just - wait a moment. i’ll call you back.” hermione quickly hung up, rushing after the wizards in lime robes. “excuse me!” she shouted, breaking into a run. one of the healers turned around, her eyes scanning hermione’s face as realization dawned over her. 

“mrs. granger-weasley, it’s -”

“did you say something about harry?” she interrupts, waving a hand to silence the witch. “what’s going on?” 

“i’m sorry, i’m unable to disclose private information pertaining to mr.potter’s condition,” she said, wringing her hands. 

hermione’s stomach twisted uncomfortably - the healer had essentially confirmed that something was indeed wrong. even after all of these years, harry had avoided st.mungo’s like the plague, and had only been a handful of times. for him to have been admitted - something had to be seriously wrong. 

“is draco here?” hermione pressed. the healer began to inch away from her, and she carefully kept pace. “he should be harry’s emergency contact. does he know what’s going on?” 

“well, we haven’t been able to contact anyone yet, mr.potter’s only just been admitted -” 

flustered, hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out her ministry badge, flipping it open and pushing it towards the healer. she absolutely hated having to use her name or position to get what she wanted, but she was willing to put that aside for harry’s sake. 

“i need to know harry potter’s condition, under the orders of the minster for magic.” she lied smoothly. the healer regarded her warily, glancing from the badge to hermione’s face. privately, she hoped she wouldn’t lose her job over this. 

“i’m on my way up there now,” the healer said finally. “i can explain as we walk.” 

hermione nodded briskly, trailing after the healer as they entered an empty elevator cart. 

“mr. potter was admitted to the hospital about fifteen minutes ago. we received an urgent page from hogwarts. he had been found on the grounds, in the forest, unconscious and unresponsive.” 

hermione gasped shakily, her hand coming to cover her mouth. what had harry been doing in the forbidden forest? had he been attacked by a creature?

“our healers had been unable to detect a pulse, but they’re attempting to revive him now. we were paged to make sure that there are enough healers on hand in case something goes wrong.” 

“what happened?” hermione asked, her voice already thick with emotion. “what was he doing at hogwarts?” 

“well,” the healer said, stepping from the elevator. at the end of the hallway, there was a large group of healers surrounding a door. despite the crowd, there was complete silence. “it looks like a suicide attempt,” the healer said quietly, looking over at hermione. 

she froze in her tracks, staring with wide eyes. “a suicide attempt? that doesn’t make any sense. harry wasn’t suicidal. he - he’s engaged to be married, for merlin’s sake. he’s not…” she stopped and glanced up at at healer, who looked very uncomfortable. hermione continued to follow behind the healer in a stunned silence, her hands trembling. as they reached the hallway, the healers moved aside, allowing her to see inside of the room. 

harry was indeed lying on the bed, his eyes shut and his head lolled to the side. one of his arms hung from the bed, palm outwards. his fingers were slack and slightly blue. there were a team of healers surrounding him, murmuring to each other quietly and casting spells over his limp body. hermione looked away, her lip trembling. 

“oh,” she said, stumbling backwards. “oh, no - harry,” 

she spun on her heel, practically running back to the lift. there was a couple standing there already waiting, and they glanced at her with concern in their eyes. hermione looked away, wiping away a tear from her cheek. throughout the journey back to the pediatric floor, hermione continued to replay the image of harry lying in the hospital bed, and the sight of his lifeless arm hanging from the bed.

as she entered the room with ron and rose, she took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. as soon as ron looked up at her, he saw through it. 

“what’s wrong?” ron said, drawing himself up to his full height. “‘mione?” 

“harry’s here,” she choked, her eyes watering once more. “he’s - they found him at hogwarts and they’re trying to revive him but - i saw him, ron, he looks -” she gulped and blinked rapidly, willing herself not to burst into tears. 

“i’m sure he’s fine,” ron said, although the worried expression on his face said differently. “we should go down there. we can bring rosie back later, yea?” 

with that, ron picked rose up onto his hip, taking hermione’s hand with his own free one. when they arrived to harry’s floor, hermione pulled him towards the room. the crowd of healers had only grown, yet they still made no noise. an older wizard, wearing white robes instead of lime-green, pushed past the group and into the room, a quiet murmur running through the crowd. 

“what’s going on?” ron asked, gathering the attention of a few of the healers on the outer fringes. “where’s harry?” 

“it’s not looking good,” said a young looking man in lime. “they’ve called in healer osgood…” 

hermione tuned out the rest of his sentence as she made her way to the front of the crowd once more with ron by her side. the healers who had been working on harry before had stepped to the side - only the old man in white robes remained - both of his hands pressed to harry’s chest as he murmured under his breath. everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath - and several of the healers were clutching each other. 

“no,” ron breathed, his hand squeezing at hermione’s. “oh, merlin, harry.” 

after what felt like hours, the healer stepped away, frowning beneath his bushy mustache. he closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head - folding his hands before him. 

“time of death,” he murmured, glancing at the clock. “6:34 pm.” 

hermione burst into tears immediately, rushing into the room. nobody bothered to try and stop her as she grabbed at harry’s hands - they were cold and lifeless in her grip, and she recoiled, sobbing harder. she stumbled backwards, into ron’s waiting arms. he seemed to have handed rose to someone else to hold, because he wrapped both arms around hermione and pulled her close, sobbing wetly into her hair as he attempted to comfort her. 

“draco,” she cried, pulling away from ron. “we have to tell draco - he doesn’t know,” 

ron nodded absently, although his eyes were trained on harry’s body. hermione dialed the number to harry and draco’s home phone with trembling fingers and blurry eyes. 

_“hello?” came draco’s voice._

_“draco?” hermione says, her voice ragged._

_“mione, what’s going on?”_

_“can you come to st.mungo’s?” she asked breathily, still fighting back her tears. “it’s harry.”_

_“is he okay? what’s happened?”_

_“draco, they found him,” hermione sobbed. “his body... he - i… he’s gone. harry’s gone.”_

\- 

draco stumbled through the floo, his chest constricting painfully. he wanted nothing more than to cry out - but wouldn’t allow himself to until he was sure that what hermione was saying was true. his mind raced as he stood in the lift, his hands shaking. 

he had just seen harry _last night._ they had hugged, and kissed, and touched less than 24 hours ago - and now he was supposedly… 

dead. 

as he stepped from the lift, draco caught sight of ron and hermione. they stood at the end of the hallway - well, ron stood, rocking rosie in his arms while hermione sat on a chair, her head in her hands. he could hear her sobs as he stepped closer, and each cry made his heart clench more. ron also seemed to be in tears, although it was a lot more discreet. baby rose seemed blissfully oblivious to it all. 

“malfoy,” ron choked as he got closer. hermione looked up, her eyes bloodshot and her hair disheveled. 

“what - what happened?” he asked, his voice shaking. he glanced at the closed door which apparently served as the only thing separating him from harry’s body. “hermione said that he was…” 

“dead,” hermione whispered. “one of the healers told me they think it was suicide - i tried to tell them it didn’t make sense but - he… i just don’t understand,” 

“you should go in and see him,” ron suggested, reaching out and touching draco’s shoulder. “i think the aurors might be on their way - they might have questions.” 

draco nodded jerkily, but didn’t move from his spot. suddenly, his feet feel impossibly heavy. the idea of going into the hospital room and seeing harry - or rather, not seeing him, makes draco feel nauseous. he doesn’t want to think about how many times he could’ve said something but didn’t - or how many red flags he might’ve missed. 

ron and hermione were both staring at him, likely wondering why the fuck he was still standing in the hallway, rather than inside of the room with harry. steeling himself, draco took the few wooden steps towards the door, training his hand on the doorknob. he froze for another moment before pushing it open, holding his breath as he entered. 

harry was lying on the bed, with his eyes closed and his wild hair splayed across the pillow. he looked like he could be sleeping, except for the unnatural stillness of his chest. 

“no,” draco moaned, still standing in the doorway. “no, no, please, no,” 

when harry didn’t move, draco staggered forward, stopping at his bedside. he reached out to touch harry’s face - that warm, tan skin that he had kissed and stroked just a few hours ago - but recoiled at the inhuman chill there. harry had always radiated warmth, even on his worst days, but now there was no trace of it. tears welled in draco’s eyes as he stared down at harry, seemingly dozing beneath the white sheet.

“harry,” he whispered, tears streaming from his eyes and dripping from his chin onto the pristine sheet. “harry, please, don’t go,” 

draco ripped the sheet away, a sudden urge of anger flaring in his stomach. harry’s hands - which had always been strong but gentle, were limp at his side. his silver engagement ring was still on his finger, and when draco reached down and laced their fingers together their rings clinked together gently. 

he pulled harry’s hand to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to the knuckles. 

“harry,” draco sobbed, his hands trembling. “i need you,”

but harry didn’t respond. 

his eyes didn't flutter open - bottle green and full of life. his pink, plump lips didn’t part to release a laugh, or to frame his perfect, white smile. he remained cold, and stiff.

dead. 

-

_“our spells tell us that mr.potter’s cause of death was an overdose. more specifically, a lethal mixture of muggle painkillers and potions. our spells were able to reverse the effects of the potions, but it seemed as if the muggle medicine had already entered his bloodstream by the time he was discovered.”_

_“the time he… when did it happen? he left this morning, and i hadn’t heard from him all day, and i - when did he…?”_

_“unfortunately, our spells are unable to tell us the exact time - but my team predicts that he took the initial dose at around 5:30 pm. by the time he was discovered by the hogwarts staff and brought into our care, there was a very small chance that we could’ve done anything to help mr.potter. however, we did try our very best to provide mr.potter with the highest quality of healing and service.”_

_“hogwarts... what was he doing at hogwarts?”_

_“we can’t be sure. however, the staff over at hogwarts or the aurors may know more about the specifics concerning mr.potter’s location.”_

_“i knew that something was wrong… i just kept pushing it off. he would apologize to me, and tell me that he loved me.”_

_“mr. malfoy, matters of mental health are very precarious. there is no true way to know if you, or any of your loved ones, would’ve been able to prevent mr.potter’s suicide. in all my years of experience, i have learned that people can be very headstrong. when someone has made their mind up about something, it’s not very often that you can change it.”_

_“i didn’t help him… and now he’s dead,”_

_“draco, if i may, you musn’t blame yourself or harry for his death. in life, terrible things happen, seemingly for no reason. but, there isn’t always someone who is at fault. this is just the way life is.”_

_-_

draco goes home alone that night - his hands trembling endlessly and his breath shallow. he had been interrogated by the aurors and healers, who had seemed unconvinced that the reformed death eater had nothing to do with the death of the saviour. finally, when he had begun to stumble over his words and talk in confusing circles, they had released him, offering their halfhearted condolences. 

and then draco was home, staring blankly at his empty living room and wondering where he was supposed to go from that point. he hadn’t eaten yet, and his steak and kidney pie remained on the kitchen counter beneath a hasty warming charm. there was so much of it - more than he would ever be able to eat on his own. 

instead, draco walked slowly towards the bathroom. the scent of the hospital and death seemed to cover his clothes, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be clean again. when he first turns on the water in the shower, he feels nothing. he watches as the liquid lands on his skin - but is unable to feel the warmth. draco turns the dial, making the water hotter and hotter and hotter until his arms and hands are bright red with burns - yet he still feels nothing. 

when his legs tire of standing, they simply give out beneath him, and draco crashes to the ground. the smooth tile presses against his cheek, and he finds comfort in it. in a strange way, it feels a bit like being held. like being caressed, with an unforgiving hand. with harry’s cold, dead hands. 

he hears the darkness slip beneath the crack of the bathroom door - a loud, gnashing sound like two bunches of wire wool being dragged across each other. it fills the bathroom, flooding the floor and crawling up the walls like vines. the light in the bathroom reduces dramatically as the darkness slips into the shower. draco watches as it approaches him, rushing towards him and then stopping right at his pointed big toe. 

the darkness rushes up the shower walls, filling the entire room with black until there’s only draco - curled on the cold floor of the shower beneath a steaming stream of water. the blackness seems to flirt with the steam, twisting around each other and making familiar shapes. _a heart, a triangle, a circle, a home. a home with a missing roof. a home with a crack in it. an empty field._

the darkness pools onto the ceiling above draco, forming one long drop that hangs from the ceiling, descending towards him slowly. 

_take me_ , he thinks bitterly. _i don’t want to be here anymore, anyways._

the darkness inches closer obediently, hovering just a few centimeters from his nose. draco smiles ruefully, an ugly stretching of the mouth made worse by the endless tears rushing from his eyes. 

“just fucking kill me already,” he sobbed loudly, raisng a weak fist and pounding on the floor beneath him. he realizes that he means it as it passes his lips - he’d rather die here, on the shower floor, than be forced to continue navigating this life without harry by his side. since they had found their way back to each other, harry had become a significant part of draco’s identity - they had seamlessly become _dracoandharry._

but harry was gone, and draco had been transformed into nothing but an unfinished sentence, in one fell swoop. 

_dracoand -_

_dracoand…_

_dracoand._

_and, and, and…_

when the darkness swallows him, the feeling that washes over him is something akin to relief. 

\- 

the next morning, hermione appears through the floo, her eyes puffy and bloodshot red, and her hair fastened into a haphazard bun. when she finds draco curled on the floor of his bedroom, still naked, she bursts into tears again. her maternal instincts seem to take over as she sits draco up and dresses him manually, and then hoists him up and leads him to the floo slowly. 

her tears never stop - each sob a heartbreaking display of her agony. but she works through them consistently, even pausing occasionally to gently wipe at draco’s own tears. she pushes him through the floo, and deposits him on their sofa, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. 

“it’s going to be okay, draco,” she whispered, her voice trembling. somehow, despite the tremor in her voice, draco found himself wanting desperately to believe her. he clung to her even as she tried to pull away, grabbing her sweater in tight fists and burying his face in her soft stomach, like a child and their mother. 

he wills himself to stop crying, to stop falling apart like an emotionally underdeveloped teenager - but the grief pulls at him, dragging every part of his mind and body back towards that dark place he had discovered just last night on the floor of his shower. he takes several deep breaths, slow and steady like his mind healer had taught him after the war. he knows he should take a calming draught - maybe go outside and get some fresh air and drink some water. but his eyes don’t stop watering, and his chest doesn’t stop squeezing like every breath might be his last. 

at some point, ron came down the steps with a babbling rose in his arms. his eyes were red-rimmed, but it’s obvious that he was attempting to hold it together for the sake of his family. he sat rose down on the ground, where she quickly became fascinated by a few wooden blocks. he sat on the couch beside draco, a tentative hand finding his back and rubbing large, comforting circles. when draco is able to calm himself down a bit, hermione pulled away and goes to sit on the other side of ron. she buried her face in his chest, and his arm went around her shoulder automatically and he began pressing gentle kisses to her temple. in a surprising display of intuition, he wrapped an arm around draco and pulls him close as well. 

the embrace is affectionate, but different from hermione’s. nonetheless, draco allowed himself to be held. when a fresh onslaught of tears began, he presses his face into ron’s shoulder and allows himself to fall apart a bit, and to be held together by ron’s warm embrace. 

with that, ron and hermione seem to adopt him into their family. 

he sleeps on their couch, covered with a warm blanket that molly had knit them a few years ago. he watches rose as she crawls around their living room and holds her to his chest when she seems to have exhausted ron and hermione with her crying. he spends a large majority of his time drifting between sleep and wakefulness, yet is unable to escape the exhaustion that weighs on his shoulders. 

they wake him for meals - bringing them to him on the couch until he’s strong enough to hobble over to their kitchen table and force himself to swallow whatever it is they’ve presented him. he wears ron’s old jumpers exclusively - too weak and afraid to suggest going back to his own home to retrieve some of his own clothing. 

sometimes, he’d find himself wrapped around ron and hermione, much like that very first morning. hermione would sit beside him on the couch in the mornings, offering a mug of tea and sipping in silence with him for a few minutes. her hand would find his, lacing together gently and serving as a bit of an anchor for both of them. ron would often bend over the couch, brushing draco’s hair away from his face and patting his head affectionately. he would sit at the head of the couch, and allow draco to sleep with his head in his lap - these occasions were the only time draco could truly rest, but he refused to let this slip - or ron would very well station himself on the couch with draco for at least eight hours everyday. 

“i’m sorry to impose,” draco murmured one night. rose had already been put to sleep, and the unlikely trio had curled onto the couch in a position reminiscent of their first morning together. ron had his arms wrapped around both draco and hermione’s shoulders. hermione sipped at a glass of wine, while draco nursed a warm mug of tea. 

“you can stay as long as you need, draco,” hermione said quietly. she reached over and pat his thigh lightly, before shifting her hand to rest on ron’s leg. the gesture is intimate, and it makes draco’s heart ache painfully. he longs to have harry beside him - to be able to lean into his warmth and be comforted by him. to not have to miss him. 

“harry loved you,” ron said matter-of factly. “and we love you.” 

draco opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when his eyes welled with tears and he felt himself become overwhelmed with emotion. he had expected the tentative friendship he had built with ron and hermione during his and harry’s relationship to crumble upon his death. they no longer had reason to tolerate his presence, or treat him with kindness. yet, they had taken him in, and taken care of him when he needed it the most. 

“thank you.” he finally whispered, crying softly despite himself. 

\- 

_“do you blame yourself?”_

_“i didn’t say that. i just can’t help but think about what i could’ve done differently, if i could’ve saved him - “_

_“but do you blame yourself, draco?”_

_“i - i suppose i do. i let him leave. i knew things weren’t right, but i just wanted to avoid the difficult conversation…. if i had spoken to him, i could’ve gotten him help. i know that i could’ve saved him. he only...left, because he felt alone, like there was nobody to help him.”_

_“that’s not necessarily true, draco.”_

_“....”_

_“have you thought about how you’ll say goodbye to harry?”_

_“we’ve already had the funeral. there’s nothing more to do but move on with our lives.”_

_“i mean more along the lines of a private farewell. something between only you and harry. this way, you have something separate, and more intimate to carry with you. a fitting ending for your private relationship, don’t you think?”_

\- 

it had been fairly easy to find the spot. there were wildflowers growing in one lone circle, as if the forest spirits had enchanted it. other gifts of nature were also in the pile - polished rocks and sparkling leafs and smooth sticks. the sunlight seemed to filter through the tall trees and shine directly on the small patch, dancing across the grass and creating strange shapes.

draco wasn’t sure what he had been expecting - maybe a sign tacked to the tree that read “ _harry potter died here” (_ and another sign underneath that read “ _for the second, and last, time”_ ). maybe he had expected harry to be sat beneath the tree, with his knees curled into his chest and a gentle smile on his face. he would hold his hand out to draco, his eyes bright and palm open. he would laugh softly, and say “ _took you long enough_ ”. draco would go into his arms easily, laughing and crying and absolutely thrilled to be by harry’s side again. they would sit together beneath the tree until it was dark and cold, and then they would go home together, hand in hand. 

instead, draco stood beside the circle, with his hands trembling and his eyes watering. he didn’t want to cry - he had been crying nearly every day for three months. he had cried his way through the funeral, and the dozens of memorial services, and the tributes, and every godforsaken event he had been forced to sit through as part of his duty as grieving widower. 

finally - draco had the opportunity to say goodbye on his own terms. 

the freedom of being alone didn’t make things any easier. being back at hogwarts made draco uneasy on principle - the looming castle and dark forests only served as a reminder of all of the mistakes he had made. but, for harry... it was fitting that he would pick here of all places to end his life. it had been only a few feet away from this very spot that harry had surrendered himself to voldemort all those years ago. despite walking into the forest willingly, the idea of a choice had only been an illusion. sacrificing himself for the greater good of the wizarding world had been the only feasible option - this would the remain the truth no matter how the story stretched and twisted. 

this time, the power had been in harry’s hands completely. 

on one of the many occasions that they had lain face to face, almost touching - but not quite post-coitus, harry had whispered something to draco. _hogwarts was my first real home._ this confession had been closely followed by heart wrenching revelations concerning harry’s remaining family and his upbringing - but the singular beacon of light throughout the conversation had been the portrayal of hogwarts as harry’s saving grace. it was there that he had met his best friends, and formed both his best and worst memories. it was there that his life had truly begun.

and it was there that his life had ended. 

a howl ripped from draco’s mouth before he could stop himself - a loud, angry sound that perfectly encapsulated all of the fury, frustration, and grief that he felt. a wave of emotion washed over draco at that moment, brining him to his knees with the force of it. 

he had been feeling the customary sadness since the moment he had learned the truth of harry’s demise - an aching feeling in his heart that felt so deeply set, so stubborn that he feared he would never again experience life without the ever-present melancholy streak that he had developed. sadness had taken to following him like a ghost - turning everything he touched cold and blue. 

but this - the anger that burned in the pit of his stomach - was red and hot like fiendfyre, and threatened to consume him completely. it had him gag, the force of the anger - hitting him like a reducto. his entire body warmed, and he suddenly was filled with the desire to tug off his sweater and throw it to the ground, and perhaps tear it to shreds like a savage. 

instead, he knotted his hands in a small clump of wildflowers inside harry’s ring, ripping them from the ground with a furious yank. when the sight of newly upturned earth and frayed roots didn’t soothe him, he tried again, yanking up a different patch of grass and weeds. again and again, he tore at the ground until his fingernails were dark with dirt and his forehead beaded with sweat. 

his face was wet - whether from perspiration or tears he didn’t know. he felt the urge to scream again, and so he did - tipping his head back and releasing a bloodcurdling screen towards the sky, much like a werewolf. 

“fuck you!” he shouted, picking up one of the smooth stones and hurling it into a nearby clearing. he wasn’t sure who he was cursing, or why - but he knew that it felt good to destroy this singular patch of earth - so well decorated and cozy compared to the rest of the treacherous forest. draco grabbed another stone and threw it in the other direction. it fell short, landing only a few meters before him. “damn it!” 

“you must leave, human.” came a deep voice from the clearing behind draco. he looked up through blurry eyes, staring dumbly at the form of a centaur emerging from the woods. his skin was dark, and his chest was well muscled. a long curtain of hair fell around his waist, surprisingly silky and straight. draco stared into his handsome face - unsure of how to feel or react. “your kind does not belong here.” 

draco straightens his back and glares at the creature, emboldened by his grief. “why didn’t you help him?” his voice is loud and threatening, but the centaur remains unphased. draco had heard from the aurors that it had been a centaur who had relayed the news to hagrid about harry potter’s dead body in the forest. he wasn’t sure which centaur it was, but he didn’t care. as far as he was concerned, they were all equally guilty in failing to protect harry. “you just let him die - he needed help!” 

a part of draco realized that he was acting ridiculously, and that he was heavily projecting onto the innocent centaur. the words he spat with so much venom - they were the same ones he asked himself everyday in the mirror, and as he ate, and as he laid in the dark and attempted to sleep. _he_ had also let harry die _. he_ had also failed him. 

“you speak of harry potter?” the centaur asked, stepping forward and regarding draco warily. after a moment, he lowered himself to the ground. he had obviously deemed draco harmless, despite the venom in his words and angry eyes. “the boy who lived.” 

draco nodded despite himself, using the back of his dirty hand to wipe at his cheeks - he refused to sit here and blubber like a baby in front of this centaur. 

“harry potter was in great pain when he came into our forest. my brothers and i made to warn him - but even we could feel his sorrow as he found rest. there was nothing to be done, except to bring him as much peace as we could in the moment,” the centaur gestured to the mostly trampled patch, and a flood of guilt pulled draco under. 

he could imagine it now - the creatures of the forbidden forest all coming to visit harry potter on his death bed - using their nature magic to ensure that he passed without pain. in a strange way, it comforted draco. the healers had explained to him that the painkillers had rendered him unable to feel anything - but muggle medicine was foreign and confusing to draco. he understood magic - the way a simple touch could go so far in making someone feel better. 

the fight leaked from draco’s body like a deflated ballon. his fire faded rapidly, transforming into a dim candle before quickly extinguishing completely. he slumped forward, sprawling onto the ground beside the circle of pebbles - beside harry’s final resting place. as he pressed his cheek tot he soft earth, draco swore he could feel the familiar caress of harry’s magic, warm and playful and welcoming. 

“he’s gone,” draco whispered, partly to himself. his lip trembled as a sob escape his throat, following quickly by another. and then he was crying gently into the floor of the forbidden forest, the centaur watching him with an odd expression. 

“he is gone, but only from this realm. harry potter lives on forever with all those who were lost before him.” the centaur says quietly. the image of harry, dressed in white and walking with an easy grace, surrounded by all of those he had loved and lost appeared in draco’s mind. his parents, sirius, remus, tonks, dumbledore, and even snape - welcoming him into the afterlife, or the second realm, or wherever it was that spirits went, filled draco with a strange warmth. “you will heal, draco malfoy,” 

“but how?” draco whimpered, his entire body shaking with the strength of his sobs.

“time.” 

when draco finally managed to peel himself from the ground of the forbidden forest, the sun had almost set completely, and the centaur had disappeared. he could hear the rustle of creatures through the trees, and felt distantly that he was being watched. however, he knew that nothing would touch him. 

pulling out his wand, draco took a deep breath and flicked his wand gently. the flower patch reassembled itself effortlessly - shifting around to return to its former glory. draco remained still for a few moments, staring silently at the bed that had held harry as he took his last breath. a large part of his wanted to curl onto the ground again - to lay long and still until the grass and flowers grew around him and claimed his body as one of their own - until he could be reunited with harry. 

a voice in the back of his head, one that sounded suspiciously like harry, gently prodded at him until he turned around and walked away slowly and steadily, without a backwards glance. 

-

_“how are you feeling now, draco?”_

_“i’m bloody uncomfortable. my life feels like a sweater that’s three sizes too small. my magic doesn’t even feel the same... i feel like i don’t belong in this world anymore.”_

_“draco, it seems to me that you’re suffering from depression. magical complications, general discomfort… these are all symptoms - and it’s likely, considering the things that you’ve gone through. how have you been coping with harry’s death?”_

_“i don’t really know. sometimes i feel fine, and then i’ll look down at my ring, or make two cups of tea instead of one, or just talk out loud and wait for him to answer me... and when i realize, it feels like losing him all over again. every single time.”_

_“draco -”_

_“i know that he’s dead. i’m not stupid. but i can’t process the fact that i’ll never get to be with him again. it doesn’t feel real! i keep expecting to come home one day and find him sitting on the couch, or sleeping next to me in bed… so maybe i’m not doing okay.”_

_“draco, have you considered a possible change of pace? it seems to me as if you’re attempting to continue to live the life you lived with harry… without him. of course you’d feel incomplete - you’re missing half of the puzzle. i suggest developing a new routine - different from the things that you used to do with harry.”_

-

when ron and hermione stepped through the floo for tuesday night dinner, they promptly dropped to their knees and covered their heads. clothing, furniture, and other objects flew around the room in all directions, organizing themselves in random piles. in the middle of the chaos stood draco malfoy, pink cheeked and frantically flicking his wand back and forth. 

“going somewhere, draco?” ron shouted, catching a pair of loafers that nearly smacked him in the head. 

draco blinked dazedly, seemingly suddenly aware of the fact that he had guests. he dropped his wand to his side with a quiet sigh. the objects still suspended in mid-air fell to the floor with a loud crash, causing the trio to jump. 

“i’m sorry, i lost track of time.” he apologized, avoiding their eyes. 

“where are you going?” hermione asked, peering over at a full suitcase near the base of the stairs. 

“i can’t stay here anymore,” draco murmured, his voice shaky. he curled his hand into a fist, relishing the burn of his fingernails digging into the delicate skin of his palm. “he’s just everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. i hate this stupid fucking house,” 

at one point, he had loved this house. every inch of it was covered in memories of his and harry’s time together - a chaste kiss here, a quick hook up there. they had lived and laughed and fought and fucked over nearly every surface - and now, even looking at a certain corner or room made draco’s stomach twist painfully. 

“draco,” hermione stepped forward, her voice gentle and hand outstretched. he doesn’t have to look up at her to know that her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are pursed in that familiar motherly expression that she always gets when she looks at rose or draco. 

“i’m leaving london,” he said, moving backwards and sinking into an armchair. he wipes his hands over his face as ron and hermione perch on the couch, between piles of expensive scarfs and gloves. “i bought an apartment in new york.” 

“you’re going to america?” ron asked, the shock evident in his voice. there’s something else there too - worry, and a hint of affection. it makes draco feel oddly warm inside - his friendship with weasley was one he would never quite understand, but would eternally be grateful for. “are you sure?” 

“i am,” draco whispered. “this entire house is covered in memories of him. of us. the garden, the kitchen, the loo -” draco pauses to inhale shakily, his hands trembling in his lap. if ron and hermione notice his fragility, they don’t mention it. “our bed... i can’t do it anymore, i need to be away from this.” 

he knows that he’s being dramatic. he could’ve moved in with any one of his friends, or bought another apartment or home somewhere in london. but, as he had lain in their bed alone, he had realized that the centaur had only been half-right in his advice. time had passed - it had been almost nine months since harry’s death, and draco still found himself waking some mornings and reaching across the bed for harry - only to be severely disappointed when his hand instead brushed a cool, empty pillow. distance would help him heal. and then, when he finally felt like himself again, he could come back to london and give this life another go. 

“when do you leave?” hermione asked - the apprehension obvious in her voice. 

“saturday.” draco provides. they both gasp, and guilt bites at draco. for the last year, they had been his rock - and he had served as an alternate third to their trio. and suddenly, he was jetting off to america. for the second time, they would be unexpectedly abandoned by a close friend. tears welled in draco’s eyes and he blinked them away quickly. “i’m sorry - i know it’s soon. i’m not selling the house or anything yet. i’d like to know that it’s here. that he’s here. if i ever need it. but i just can’t live here anymore.” he exhaled shakily biting his lip to keep his emotions at bay. “it’s killing me.” 

“if this is what you need to do to feel okay,” ron said, clapping his hands together and spreading his lips into a thin line. “then we’ve got your back completely.” 

they don’t talk much for the rest of the evening, but ron and hermione both stay through the night, moving from room to room and helping draco pack his things. they inevitably encounter things of harry’s - first, a old tattered sweater that draco holds to his face, inhaling deeply. harry’s familiar scent is gone, but the warmth lingers and provides draco with a semblance of comfort. 

“maybe you should take it with you,” hermione said quietly, sitting cross-legged on their bed. draco had sank to the ground, with his nose pressed deeply into the fabric. “something to remember him by.” 

he stares down at the sweater. it’s a faded burgundy color, with a haphazard snitch emblazoned across the front. the neck and sleeves are stretched and frayed, and there are small holes in the armpits and near the hem. harry had worn this sweater the first time they had ran into each other again - all those years ago. it had quickly become a shared piece of clothing - and they had frequently fought over who would get to wear it. slipping it on felt like a hug - and draco was sure that if he dared to pull it over his head he would instantly dissolve into a blubbering mess. 

“yeah,” draco said softly, folding the sweater carefully and sending it down the stairs with a flick of his wand. “i think i will.” 

\- 

on friday evening, draco goes to the manor for dinner with his parents. 

when draco had originally began seeing harry, his parents had been extremely reluctant to accept their relationship. there had been multiple long talks on preserving the family name, and following pureblood customs, and other rubbish that draco had dutifully ignored. eventually, they had began to accept their relationship - his mother had simply been pleased that draco had seemingly found his soulmate and was happy. lucius had muttered something about optics and rebranding and had stopped actively picking fights with harry - although his mouth was perpetually twisted into a frown whenever the two were forced to interact. family dinners had been infrequent and tense, and draco had almost always had to make up for them with lots of groveling and kisses afterwards. 

his parents had attended harry’s funeral - dressed in the formal mourning robes and standing silently away from the rest of the crowd. they had been relatively ignored by everyone else, but their silent solidarity had been somewhat of a comfort for draco. 

tonights dinner was mostly silent and prolonged. draco complimented the food politely, despite not being able to taste anything. his mother continuously smiled nervously over at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. the meals closely resembled the ones they had had when he was younger and living at the manor - unremarkable and seemingly blissfully unaware of what was to come. 

it was only when they stood in the drawing room that they directly acknowledged that this evening had indeed been a goodbye. 

“draco, you know you could always just go to the château in france... it’’s much closer, and you can still have the fresh start that you need. new york city is just so far away… we’ll never see you!” narcissa clung to his arm, her voice wavering only in the slightest. 

he sighed, looking down at his mother with a sad smile. “mum, i need something completely new. it’ll be good for me... i’ll be able to move on. beside, it’s not forever. i have to come back home someday.” he doesn’t add the fact that he thinks it’ll be a very long time before he feels _at home_ in london again. just like their home, the city is littered with memories of the time he and harry had had together. since the idea of relocating had come to him, he had been anxiously counting down the days until he could finally leave all of this behind. 

“my dragon,” she whispered, finally allowing her tears to fall. she reaches up and cups his cheek. her rings press into his skin, a direct contrast to the soft skin of her palm. her touch is comforting and draco finds himself leaning into it. for a moment, he wishes that he was a young boy again, and that it was appropriate for him to bury his face in his mother’s robes and hide from the world until things were less scary. “you’re still so young… too young to have experienced this much pain.” she pulls him into a hug, and he readily wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. 

“i’ll stay in contact,” he said gently, forcing himself to remain composed. his mother smells of vanilla and lavender, and he feels safe in her grip. “i’ll write to you, and pansy offered to pass along messages for me until i can get my floo set up.” 

“i’ve been thinking about getting one of those muggle telephone devices... many of the older families have started using them. i’ve heard great things from celeste zabini.” narcissa sniffed into draco’s shoulder. he marvels silently at the idea of his mother attempting to use a cell phone - but appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. 

“that would be brilliant, mother,” draco pressed a kiss to her cheek and held her for a moment longer before letting go. she turns her face away, wiping at the tears in her eyes before he can see them. draco turned towards his father, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. his father had never been one for physical affection towards anyone besides narcissa - but the idea of not seeing his father again for years made him crave something more than a stiff handshake. 

“draco,” lucius said stiffly, he hesitates for a moment before opening his arms, pulling draco into a hug. draco goes into his arms easily, inhaling his fathers scent of lemongrass and bergamot and savoring the moment. “take care of yourself, son” it’s not a declaration of love, but it touches draco like one. he blinks hard as he pulls away from his father, smiling tightly. 

he opens his mouth to say a final goodbye, but becomes choked up as he tries. instead, he smiles sadly and nods at both of his parents, taking a deep breath before grabbing a handful of floo powder and throwing it into the fireplace. his voice wavers as he chokes out his address and steps into the flames, turning to drink in the sight of his parents, leaning into each other and supporting each other. 

_they’ll be okay_ , draco reassures himself as he is swallowed by the green flames, _they have each other._

\- 

the next morning, he is met by an entourage at the airport. hermione, ron, pansy, goyle, and blaise huddle near his terminal, wearing matching sad smiles. hermione looks marginally more comfortable than the rest of the purebloods - who blink around with large eyes and flinch when muggles walk by, rolling suitcases and talking loudly into bluetooth earpieces. 

“you lot didn’t have to come,” he said, blushing. “but i would’ve left the country ages ago if i knew it would get all you lazy sods out of bed before ten in the morning.” 

pansy breaks away from the group first, her eyes already watering. “oh, draco, i’ll miss you terribly! i’ll come to visit you in new york as soon as i can,” as per usual, pansy is dramatic and demands attention - several muggles turn to peer at her as she throws her arms around draco’s neck, crying loudly. nonetheless, draco appreciates his oldest friend, and wraps his arms around her waist as she sobs into his shoulder. 

“i’ll miss you too, pans,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek. emotions swell in his chest as he holds pansy close. he wants nothing more than to sob along with her - but draco knows that if he doesn’t hold it together until he’s on the plane, he might never leave. he finally releases her with another gentle kiss, smiling sadly and wiping away her tears with his thumb.

blaise and goyle stepped forward next, both shaking his hand and patting his back furiously. they smile and laugh, but their jokes fall flat and their eyes seem sad. “i’ll miss you idiots, too,” he murmurs, pulling them both in for quick hugs. blaise melts into the embrace quickly, but goyle stands stiffly for a few moments before tentatively wrapping an arm around draco’s torso. 

ron pulls draco in for a hug before he can initiate it, pressing his nose into draco’s har and wrapping his arms around him completely. they don’t speak - they don’t do anything other than hold each other, rocking back and forth in that small space. the tears that draco had thus far managed to suppress spill out as ron weasley rubs gentle circles into his back. 

“ron,” draco choked, his voice muffled by emotion and the fabric of ron’s t-shirt. “thank you,”

“anytime, malfoy,” he laughs, sounding a bit emotional himself. “send us a postcard from america, yeah?” 

the irony of the situation doesn’t escape him - if someone told him ten years ago that he would be reduced to tears by ron weasley, he would’ve assumed that they were tears of laughter at his misfortune. but, as draco smiles wetly up at ron’s kind, freckled face, he feels an overwhelming sense of thankfulness to the universe for both him and hermione.

“not going to forget me, are you?” she asks as she rushes into draco’s arms. his chin rests atop her head as they hug - her arms wrapping around him and squeezing him tight, tighter than anyone else had. when she pulls away, her eyes swim with tears, and her lip quivers. “i’m so sorry, draco,” she added softly. 

he takes a shaky breath and looks away, focusing on the back of a random muggle’s head as he attempts to calm himself. he and harry had discussed traveling - they had wanted to visit america one day in the far future. they had plans to see rome, greece, italy, and india - and every other corner of the world that they wanted. together, they would’ve conquered the world. 

he’s still going to do it. one of these days. when draco is able to stand on his own without feeling as if he would completely fall apart. 

until then, he would heal.

“give us a ring when you land, okay?” hermione said, breaking him from his reverie. she pushes him lightly towards the check-in desk. 

“right, of course.” he nodded and smiled at his friends, hoping that it wouldn’t waver too much. “i’ll see you all later.” 

they wave and call his name as he walks away, shouldering his bag and fishing out his ticket. he steps up to the counter and wills himself to hold it together for just a few more moments - until he’s far enough so that his friends won’t see him sob. the attendant smiles at him patiently and asks for his information, her voice kind. “draco malfoy,” he provides, his hands trembling where they lay on the counter. “one one-way ticket to new york city.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 
> 
> let me know what you think! 
> 
> i really enjoyed writing this, but I just feel so bad for my poor draco. ack :( 
> 
> all kudos, comments, bookmarks, etc. are heavily appreciated!! <3


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